


Nobody Calls Dorian Pavus a Chicken

by Calcitron



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 80s movie references in the title, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Bad Puns, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Drinking Games, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff and Smut, Gay Chicken, Getting Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Relationship Negotiation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Service Top, how is that even a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcitron/pseuds/Calcitron
Summary: Dorian is politely requested to pitch some drinking games to the group. Cullen is surprisingly enthusiastic about the suggested activity.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 22
Kudos: 95





	Nobody Calls Dorian Pavus a Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'gay chicken' from Mandaiser in the Cullrian discord. I kinda wish I'd stuck more closely to the prompt now, but too late. Maybe I'll write another one? In another five years, perhaps. 
> 
> Also for the pride month word count challenge in the Cullrian discord.

Several rounds of Wicked Grace and overflowing tankards had Cullen flushed with warmth and warm feelings. He didn't typically indulge like this--he needed to set the example for his soldiers, of course--but with the Inquisitor recently returned from a successful dragon slaying, a bit of relaxation had been earned. Indeed, it was a rare occasion that all of the Inquisitor's inner circle were all within Skyhold's walls, a reason unto itself for celebration. The group's lively presence had the tavern humming vibrantly. Or perhaps that was just the drink. Cullen had imbibed one or two more than was custom, but he was happily distracted with soaking up the comforting atmosphere and playful banter from his cozy spot in the corner of the group.

There was much to entertain the passive observer, after all. True to form, Varric had fashioned an epic and fantastical recounting of the group's most recent expedition, the Inquisitor embellishing further, until the tale bore only passing similarities to the brief report Cassandra had laid on his desk this afternoon. Bull had attempted to engage the others in a bout of what he termed "arm wrestling". No one was yet intoxicated enough to take up the challenge, however.

"What guarantee do we have that our arms will remain intact at the end of this match, hmm?" Dorian was asking the question Cullen had just been wondering to himself. It seemed like just the sort of violence that Bull would consider good sport.

"I thought you of all people would be familiar with this game, Vint! And you just use the one arm for the contest. That's the whole challenge." Bull declared, as if that somehow provided any further clarity.

Dorian scoffed. "Extended warfare with Qunari doesn't count as a cultural exchange. We have drinking games like civilized adults. Childish wrestling would get you kicked out in the street."

"Drinking games. That's the first bright idea I've heard all night. Wot you got then, mage?" Sera's head appeared from under the table, quite suddenly nearly in Cullen's lap, startling him to the side and allowing the elf to glide out from wherever she'd spawned when summoned.

Dorian tapped his chin thoughtfully, squinting just a little blearily at Sera. "Naturally, there are the card-based amusements, like Bullshit or Guess-the-card."

Sera snorted. "We just had summat. Cards slow down the drinking! Drinks! Drinks! Drinks!"

To Cullen's dismay, the chant was taken up by the majority of their group and even some of their more intoxicated neighbors. Dorian appeared unfazed, though he did glance briefly and, oddly, a little regretfully, in Cullen's direction. Cullen's stomach swooped with both drink and dread. That glance likely meant whatever game was next suggested would visit some terrible mortification upon him.

No. He would not walk from this tavern in the buff a second time. Cullen stood, intending to announce his departure while perhaps smoothly diffusing the group's raucous energy. Ever uncooperative, though, the floor briefly swayed back and forth, forcing Cullen to flail briefly for support. When the world steadied, Dorian had moved to his side of the table to grip his shoulder.

"Retiring for the evening, Commander?" Dorian murmured, further in his space than he was used to, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly.

"Oy, stop flirting and get on with it! Or have you already shot your wad… " Sera shouted, throwing a handful of bar nuts at the pair. Booing could be heard from further down the table.

"Your decorum is laudable as always, good woman," Dorian drawled. "There is another amusement that may be more to your liking. We referred to it in the Minrathos circle as 'chicken' but a demonstration would be more illustrative." Dorian leaned further still toward Cullen and he reached out, thinking to steady the man, hand landing on a nearby hip. "The Commander is a natural, I see," chuckled Dorian, then quietly, just for Cullen's ears, "Stay put, my dear. I apologize for the indignity, but I'll try to be quick and then you can make your escape."

Flustered, and a bit bewildered, Cullen drew in a breath to request more of an explanation but found it shocked out of him but a moment later, too deep in his cups to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. Dorian was beyond close to him now and drawing closer still. This was not the polite distance he was accustomed to or even the friendly closeness of two friends. He could see the outlines of Dorian's subtle touches of kohl and the freckling in the caramel skin across his nose. Dorian was going to kiss him. There was no other possible explanation. Had he known…? No. He couldn't. Still, if the other man was interested he could just… Cullen wet his lips in anticipation and, gripping the hip still in hand, leaned in the last scant breaths himself.

Just before their lips touched, Dorian swung away and turned back to their rapt audience. The audience Cullen had all but forgotten just seconds earlier. "I should have realized the Commander would be a natural. If Corypheus didn't have him flinching at Haven, then a mere Altus certainly couldn't put him on the ropes in this fortress." The mage chuckled lightly, though Cullen detected a bit of tension through the other's frame.

Varric set down his tankard with a heavy thud. Cullen vaguely recalled it had been hovering near the man's open mouth for some time, now. "I don't get it, Sparkler. I'm afraid you're going to have to spell it out for us uncivilized barbarians. We're not as in tune with the joys of sexual repression."

Oh, yes. The game. The pieces began to click together in Cullen's slowly rebooting brain as Dorian began to explain some Tevinter nonsense about flinching and who drinks whose drink when. It seemed that perhaps the cosmopolitan manners of his northern friend might have a heretofore unsuspected weakness. A blind spot that could be exploited. A way that Cullen might finally be able to get a step ahead of his sharp-tongued, chess-cheating friend. A plan began to form.

\---

Dorian felt a sudden chill pass through him.

\---

After a lot of initial confusion, the game became an unqualified hit. Bull had kissed three of their merry band full on the lips (the Inquisitor, of course... several times… as well as Varric, and, because Bull had no sense of self preservation, Leliana) before finally flinching in the face of Vivienne. Sera had made a bold attempt at Cassandra only to turn away before getting within half a foot of the warrior.

"She just gets growlier up close," the thief mumbled before disappearing dejectedly into some unknown hideaway.

To Dorian's surprise, the Commander had reseated himself after their initial demonstration, watching events with apparent amusement and equanimity. Dorian had been sure this kind of demonstration was exactly the kind of embarrassment that would typically send the other man running for the hills, and was perplexed in the face of his calm acceptance. Well, it was no matter. He had a game to win.

Gaze zeroed on his furry target, Dorian sidled up just behind the Warden's seat and leaned down to exhale softly near his ear. Blackwall jerked around with alarm before realizing the trick.

"Resorting to dirty play?" he growled, moving back into the abruptly vacated space.

Dorian smirked, reaching out to run a finger tip down the other's throat. "I always play dirty, didn't you know?"

A low growl escaped Blackwall, as he clearly wrestled with whether he was willing to give. In the end, though, he turned away in frustration. "Get yer paws off me, you pompous prick."

"Tch, so hurtful. And I thought we'd finally found a way to get along."

Point proven, Dorian sauntered back to his side of the gathering, sliding happily back into an open seat. As he settled, a warm arm closed around him and he looked over in surprise. He'd chosen a seat by the Commander but hadn't noticed just how closely they'd been arranged. Hadn't he had enough space to prevent their thighs from pressing together before? Not that he would ever complain about being able to plaster himself against a large strong man, but this turn of events aroused suspicion. And other things as well. The Commander had not even turned to meet his gaze, however, so perhaps it was nothing.

Then the stroking began. A light tickle that had Dorian turning slightly, thinking he was in someone's way. No, that was the fingers of the man in whose arms he rested. Dorian felt his heart thump in his chest as his breath briefly stuttered before recovering. What was going on here? Had he passed out and entered the Fade? Dorian examined the table of friends in front of him and the other occupants of the tavern. No blurry edges or oddly placed objects. No one seemed to think anything was amiss with the Commander's behavior either, though.

Dorian steeled himself and glanced back at his companion through his lashes. Cullen was mid-sip, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth as he observed their companions. He was lightly flushed, but that had been the case for hours now. Just as Dorian was about to turn back, Cullen glanced down at him. The man's gaze was surprisingly intense and held Dorian transfixed for endless seconds. Nearby laughter broke his reverie and, with it, Dorian's confusion. The drink must be stealing his wits! He knew what this was.

The mage leaned in to speak quietly in his companion's ear. "This is quite the performance, ser. You are proving to be stiff competition."

Cullen smirked. "Well, I do intend to win." His hand tightened over the other's shoulder, pulling him slightly further into the embrace.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. "And I certainly don't intend to lose."

Dorian held eye contact for a challenging beat, feeling as if he were teetering on a precipice but unwilling to acknowledge the intuition. It was just a foolish game. There should be nothing to generate this tension coiling in his belly.

Cullen shifted, sitting forward and blocking Dorian's view of the group with his bulky frame. "I suspect that we can both get what we want this evening." His other hand reached out, stroking along his chin in almost a mirror of Dorian's earlier act with the Warden. This didn't feel like an act, though. Fire trailed from Cullen's fingers, branding his skin and spiraling down his throat and through his veins. It pulled at some deep part of him and Dorian found himself drawn in, lured by the soft heat of hands and eyes. Dorian's gaze locked in on the Commander's tempting lips, guiding his actions until he was close enough that they were sharing the very air, breaths co-mingling. Dorian swallowed, his throat abruptly parched. This couldn't be what Cullen wanted. He was taking advantage of his friend for nothing but a lark.

"I didn't take Altus Pavus for a chicken," Cullen breathed.

That was just. How dare… It was too much and Dorian was a mere mortal. He surged through the last breath of space and devoured that cheating demon of a Commander. His smirking lips were waiting, soft and receptive where Dorian's were punishing and demanding. Mouths opened in concert and within another breath Dorian was stroking their tongues together. Glorious. It was as sweet as he'd hoped it would be, when he toyed with the fantasy while watching the Commander debate his next chess gambit in the afternoon sun of the garden.

The Commander drew back as disjointed clapping rose up from behind the wall of his shoulders.

"Woo, Cully! Get some!!"

Dorian scowled fiercely, sorely tempted to raise a wall of fire as a strong signal that some privacy would be desired. Cullen just buried his face in his hands with a sigh of exasperation.

\---

Dorian managed to just recover from his complete mortification through the application of a further finger of whiskey. At some point while he had been hiding at the bar, Cullen had beat a hasty retreat. The mage didn’t blame him--the drunken heckling had been rather a bit too enthusiastic. Dorian managed to make it through another thirty minutes of the spirited company himself before bidding a good evening to everyone. He needed to crawl back and lick his wounds in peace, perhaps strategize how to avoid the Commander for the rest of his remaining days. Obviously he had made a complete fool of himself.

The walk back to his rooms was just what Dorian needed. The clear air was crisp and refreshing, though he would never admit as much. He was so reinvigorated that by the time he made it to his side of the courtyard he had just about decided that he would not need to relocate to the new fortress in the Western Approach. In fact, upon further reflection, he rather felt that the Commander had made some commitments to him as it related to satisfaction and receipt thereof. How dare he back out now, just because of some light banter. That kiss had been…mmm. He glanced across the keep and, as he’d come to expect, torchlight could be seen still flickering from the Commander’s tower. Perhaps he could go educate the frustrating man on the ramifications of unfulfilled promises.

Before he could think on it further, Dorian made his way briskly across the courtyard and up the stairs, knocking smartly and entering without waiting for a response.

Cullen was hard at work in front of his desk, sifting through a thick stack of reports. He did not so much as glance up before instructing Dorian to "leave it on the pile."

So Dorian sat himself neatly atop the nearest pile of paperwork on the desk.

"I don't intend to leave this issue tabled, if you'll excuse the terrible pun. You made some promises earlier, my dear, and I intend to collect."

\---

Cullen jerked up in surprise, his face immediately flushing hard. He had wasted the better part of a candle trying desperately to smother the memory of Dorian's enraged expression from his mind with work, to no avail. Now the man had come to confront him in person for his caddish behavior. He momentarily considered making a mad jump from the window in escape. He would never fit through, even out of his armor. "Dorian," he breathed, "apologies. I…I wasn't expecting you."

"I should hope not. After our activities earlier this evening, I had the impression that your next invitation would involve less work and even less clothing." The lascivious smirk the other man was wearing contained no hint of the earlier distress Cullen had observed. A spark of hope lit within him. Perhaps he hadn't wholly destroyed things.

"After this evening’s… ah...encounter, I had the impression that such an invitation was less than welcome. I had thought to come apologize for overstepping in the morning and possibly make amends in whatever way I could.”

Dorian looked quite flabbergasted at his little speech. “Whyever would you think such a thing? I practically climbed into your lap. We were seconds away from rutting right there on the table!” The mage narrowed his eyes at him thoughtfully, then let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I am sufficiently mature to be plain spoken in this. I very much enjoyed our … flirtation ...earlier and would be delighted to allow it to continue upstairs. In your bed.”

Cullen swallowed hard, hoping to find a few words that weren’t as pathetic as “yes, please” but not so imbecilic that Dorian realized he was not worth his time. "Ah… I would like that very much. I. Um. Shall I follow you up?"

"Just be sure not to enjoy the view too much. I can't have you injuring yourself on the way up."

Cullen made a disgusted noise more befitting Cassandra. He would never ogle someone in such a crude… Well. Those trousers did do spectacular things to his rear. At least Cullen hadn't started climbing the ladder yet. No risk of falling.

Keeping his eyes firmly on his feet helped Cullen make short work of the climb. He found Dorian perched on his bed waiting for him. It was a picture out of several of his recent dreams and just like that Cullen found his doubts and concerns shoved firmly to the back of his mind as desire seared through him. He closed the space between them in seconds and leaned over the mage, pulling him into a kiss as he gently laid him out across the bed. Dorian melted into the space, no leering audience keeping him stiff this time, and Cullen could feel all the hard planes that were the result of the man's regular field expeditions. At least, he could feel his partner’s body as well as their respective clothing would allow. Not good enough.

Cullen reached between the heat of their bodies to grasp at whichever trouser placket came to hand first, finding that Dorian was of a similar mind, for his hand was already plucking at the buttons of his own pants. It was a good thing, too, for the fastening was not where Cullen would have ever thought to search. Focusing on his own clothing, Cullen was able to shove off his boots and push down his bottoms without breaking his lips away from their task. When his hips made contact with the hot skin beneath him an involuntary moan broke free. He was unashamed to admit, if only to himself, that it had been some time since he’d even thought to take himself in hand and this could be over rather quickly if he wasn’t careful.

“Dorian,” he found himself gasping. Words weren’t coming as easily as he’d anticipated, doubly so with the mage sucking on his bottom lip. “Let me take care of you.”

Dorian grinned, rolling over to splay himself out dramatically on the bed. “I would like nothing better, my dear. Have your wicked way with me.”

Cullen smacked his thigh lightly at the tease, stroking the sting away as he stretched to reach for the slick he kept in his nightstand for rare occasions such as these. Hopefully it had not gone off. He sniffed discretely to confirm it’s usability before dipping a pair of fingers into the vial. He stroked a bit onto himself then dipped in for a second helping as he stretched out back over his partner, kissing down his stomach before finally tasting the tip of Dorian’s cock. Cullen found the heady musk there particularly delicious and dipped his head again as Dorian helpfully lifted his hips to rut gently into the warm mouth above. The Commander relaxed his jaw, drool already leaking out down his chin from the salty tang and strain to his muscles. One hand reached around to spread Dorian wider while the slicked fingers teased at the mage’s balls and perineum.

Dorian groaned deeply, “Stop teasing. I need that hand in me. Now, if you please.”

With response options currently limited, Cullen merely growled as he plunged two fingers abruptly into Dorian’s hole. The mage’s responding wail was deeply satisfying, as was the lack of resistance his fingers were finding. Oh, it was lovely. Dorian stretched beautifully in his hands, quickly taking a third finger and groaning as Cullen crooked them to rub along his inner organ. He couldn’t wait to plunge into this wet heat. Dorian would have no difficulty taking all of him, and just the thought had his cock dripping.

Patience, though. There was plenty of time and it was too satisfying to have Dorian coming apart at the seams in his hands. Eyes closed, the other man was nearly limp below him, panting and whimpering in turn as Cullen either thrust or swallowed. With just Cullen’s modest attentions he’d become a wet, hot mess in short order. Satisfaction humming in his belly, with the knowledge that he had done this to the cultured man, Cullen gave Dorian’s red, weeping cock one final parting lick and twisted his fingers out of his hole with a soft pop.

Dorian’s weak cry of protest was short-lived when he felt Cullen’s prick press against his entrance. Cullen leaned forward, nuzzling under the other man’s jaw as he pushed deep into his ass in a single, smooth motion. After a brief initial resistance, Dorian’s hole had sucked him in greedily and they both moaned as Cullen began to rock steadily back and forth. It was rapture, even better than Cullen had just been imagining, and there was no way he could last more than a handful of minutes. Luckily, he didn’t think Dorian currently had the presence of mind to notice and he had the tools to keep it that way.

Cullen lifted himself on one arm, just enough to reach between their bodies and grasp Dorian in hand to pump him in time with his thrusts. Dorian cried out, the stroking and twisting motion that Cullen preferred on himself clearly also pleasing for the mage. It didn't take long either, for just as Cullen was feeling that telltale tingle at the base of his spine, he heard a high pitched whine and felt a hot sticky spurt against his chest. One more thrust and he was falling over the edge as well, shivering into the bronzed chest under him.

After several heaving breaths, Cullen was able to gently unstick himself from his partner and roll to the side so as not to smother him completely. Dorian began shifting as well in a most unsettling way, so Cullen pulled him close to hopefully settle the man as they both recovered from what he hoped were two mind-shattering orgasms.

“You know, Commander,” Dorian murmured quietly from where his face was buried in Cullen’s shoulder, “I’m beginning to suspect that you might have an interest in other men.”

Cullen huffed a laugh. "Certainly I've an interest in one man in particular," he said, kissing the top of his head.

\--- [Bonus Epilogue] ---

"May I join you?"

Dorian looked over in surprise to see the esteemed Commander pulling himself into the neighboring seat. As he could count on one hand the number of times he could recall his friend having entered the Herald's Rest, Dorian did his best to hinge his jaw back shut.

"To what do I owe this honor? Is today some quaint southern holiday?"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a flush already beginning to form. Sheepishly, he glanced up, "It may have been strongly suggested that I take more regular breaks."

Dorian gasped, "Slander. Do you need me to defend your honor?"

Chuckling, Cullen shook his head. "Please don't waste your efforts to refute the truth. I would accept a drink, though."

"It's done." Dorian turned and waved to the tavern keeper. When he turned back, Cullen had leaned forward, casually brushing up against his forearm. An eyebrow popped up in surprise, but Dorian didn't reflect much further on it. Southerners were a familiar lot.

"Ale again today, or are you of a mind for something stronger? You know, Bull was on me to try this horrifying Qunari concoction the other day that smelled as though it would bleach your innards. I'm convinced it was actually one of Sera's bombs that got mixed in with the casks. It couldn't possibly be intended for consumption." As he'd hoped, Cullen made a ridiculous face of revulsion at the description, bringing a tiny thrill of happiness to the mage. It was always an achievement to distract the man enough to get him thinking of problems aside from his own or the Inquisition's. The look melted into an appreciative smile as he moved forward to receive his tankard with a quiet thanks. And stayed there, with a hand casually resting on Dorian's forearm, stroking lightly. What.

Dorian stared blankly at the offending hand as the world continued moving around him like it hadn't just wholly shifted a little to the left. Cullen sipped his drink quietly, glancing over as the silence grew uncharacteristic.

Dorian took a deep breath. "What."

Cullen's face scrunched in confusion. "What?"

Dorian could, distantly, appreciate that perhaps further clarification might be warranted, but was not quite capable of actually executing on such an intention. "What," he started again, "is happening. Here." Vaguely, his free hand waved at Cullen’s hand.

"I'm having a drink with my beau?"

That just made it worse. "What? What is a beau?"

Distress and concern began to deepen on Cullen's face, and he drew back from Dorian. "I had thought after… After last night that… Well, I should not assume. I apologize."

Dorian did not approve of the look on Cullen's face or his withdrawal and grabbed the other man's wrist before he could back peddle too far. "Cullen. I will only say this once, so savor it. Use small words for the Northerner, please. What. Is a beau? What does that mean?"

Cullen's expression went rather blank at that. "Oh. Ah. When two people become romantically involved, but they haven't yet announced an official engagement, they would be called sweethearts or beaus. This is not the case in Tevinter? Surely you have courtships?"

Detached astonishment was becoming all too familiar to Dorian over the past 24 hours. "Perhaps this is something the Soporati engage in, but I've no knowledge of it. In my circles marriages are arranged and announced in infancy. Anything else is done in secret and none of the terms for it are particularly flattering." He paused, examining the Commander and the great change that had come over him since he'd first entered. The happy, relaxed man was gone and pale anxiety had taken its place. How unfortunate. Had he done that? "Well, don't stop there, my good man, please explain to me your darling customs. I've always been terribly curious about this idea of voluntary courtship. Would there be more events such as last night?"

Cullen reached out and this time Dorian met the gesture, clasping their hands. "Amongst other things. I had in mind that we might also spend a bit more time together, sharing meals or sitting here for a drink together. If you think that might be of interest to you." The Commander plucked at their joined fingers, but the nervous energy was a substantial improvement from pale distress and Dorian was pleased to see it. He smiled.

“I think I would like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember when people used to be able to go to bars? Wasn't that a fun, archaic activity.
> 
> I'm not dead, just resting! Having children doesn't leave you a lot of spare time/energy to write sexy stories. So weird how that happens. This has been lightly edited and my phone keyboard sometimes does weird things, so please let me know if you see any grammatical errors. If there are other errors of judgment or lore, those were all totally on purpose so no need to point them out.


End file.
